


Paint the Walls With My Brains

by aphroditesdove



Series: Oneshots [17]
Category: You Me At Six
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, M/M, Suicide Attempt, Trans Male Character, transphobic slur, vent - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 18:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18697270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aphroditesdove/pseuds/aphroditesdove
Summary: Max hasn't been taking care of himself.





	Paint the Walls With My Brains

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from Alligator Blood, by Bring Me The Horizon. TW for a transphobic slur (tr-nny) and an in depth attempted suicide scene. Please take good care of yourselves and turn back if this will upset you. It never is and never will be my intention to hurt people with my writing. :)

**_narrative_ **

 

In the weeks after Max comes out, he worries. He stays up late at night and barely sleeps, worrying that he’s going to get kicked out because his bandmates can't stand having a fucking  _ tranny _ associated with them. 

He keeps Matt awake too, asking him again and again if he loves him. And Matt feels bad that Max feels like he has to ask, because he’d dive off of a cliff if Max asked him with a smile, he’d kill a thousand men for him, of fucking course he loves him. But he can hear the apprehension in Max’s voice every time. The all-consuming fear that one time, Matt won’t answer or he’ll flat out say ‘no’. 

Considering the rest of the band, Chris stays about the same. He’s a little more laddish around Max, and he tries hard to make him feel like ‘one of the guys’, which Max appreciates, but he also wishes people would just treat him the same way they did before he came out. 

Dan doesn’t say much - he doesn’t usually say much anyways, and Max appreciates the Dan’s sameness. They watch football together in silence, he still pops the top off of Max’s beer for him with his own, and he still tries to hit Max with water bottles sometimes. But Max can feel his stares sometimes - like he’s wondering  _ why _ Max is the way he is. He keeps it to himself, of course. But Max can tell. 

Josh is the most obvious. He seems awkward around Max, accidentally deadnaming him sometimes. But he’s apologetic every time, and he tries really hard to just treat Max like a little brother. He makes sure that he’s not wearing his binder on stage and reminds him to stretch his back when Matt forgets, and will chastise Matt for not being an attentive enough boyfriend - in a friendly way. 

All the worrying culminates because, somehow, Max has managed to worry about everyone but himself. His best friends-slash-bandmates, his mum and sister, but not himself. And one night, like on autopilot, he finds himself in a very familiar position. 

Alone. In a bathroom. Gun on his temple. Finger shaking on the trigger. The safety is still on - he forgot to turn it off. Everything hurts and he tries to cry silently but his voice pitches up and cracks and it hurts even more because  _ boys don’t cry _ but here he is, sobbing his eyes out like a fucking pussy. He can’t see anything and suddenly the room feels too hot and stuffy and cramped and his throat feels like it’s closing up. The gun clatters to the ground, and a voice cuts through the sweaty, teary haze.

 

“Max?” Matt’s voice echoes a little through the door. He’s pushing on it, and Max hears a string of soft cuss words and then there’s a clicking noise and the door falls open, Matt falling in behind it. He takes in the sight of his crying boyfriend and the gun on the floor and puts two and two together. 

 

“Baby,” Matt grabs the gun and puts it away, before sinking onto his knees to look at Max. “Oh my God, shh, it’s going to be okay, okay? It’s going to be okay.” 

 

Max squirms away from Matt and whimpers. Matt feels like his heart has shattered into a million tiny pieces. He strokes Max’s hair softly, staying silent. The bathroom is so small and quiet that the walls seem to rattle with Max’s heartbeat, his heavy breaths threatening to tip the bottles of shampoo precariously sat on a ledge in the shower.

After what feels like ages, Max’s breathing begins to regulate and his heartbeat doesn’t seem quite so loud. 

 

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Matt whispers. 

 

“Not right now. M’tired.” Max mumbles. He lets Matt carry him to bed and tuck him in, and then Matt goes back into the bathroom and confiscates the gun, putting it in the locked safe. How Max - sweet, precious, little Max - got his hands on a gun is beyond Matt. But Max has had a long night, so he doesn’t pester him about it.

 

The next morning, Max calls his therapist while Matt is still sleeping, puts on his binder, and makes tea. He locates a pawn shop and digs around the room, eventually guessing the safe combination - 1, 1, 2, 3. 11/23, the day they met. Max smiles a little and feels the pant of guilt in his chest, realizing what he was very prepared to do the night before. He dumps the handgun into a plastic bag and puts it into his backpack, and writes Matt a note explaining where he’s off to.

When Matt wakes up, he sees the open safe and Max’s shoes and bag are gone and panics a little. And then he spots Max’s note and the mug of lukewarm tea and it calms his nerves a little, but he doesn’t fully calm down until Max returns and gives him a kiss full on the lips and Chris accidentally walks in while they’re making out because the door is kind of open. 

 

“Bloody fuckin’ hell!” Chris curses and slams the door behind him. Matt and Max separate, and Max starts laughing so hard he cries. 

 

A month later, they’re home from tour and Max sees his therapist. She listens attentively, writes him a prescription for new antidepressants, and tells him she’s gotten him moved up on the top surgery waiting list. Max almost cries, thanks her, and he and Matt and Chris and Dan and Josh cry happy tears in the car while they’re driving to dinner. And Max realizes how lucky he is, so he grabs onto Matt’s arm through his tears and squeezes it like Matt might turn to ash in a second. 

 

_ You’re my anchor _ , Max thinks.  _ I love you so much and you don’t even know.  _


End file.
